


fault lines tremble underneath my glass house

by prettyluke (buttonjimin)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Future, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Jealous Michael, M/M, Major Character Injury, Natural Disasters, OT4, Post-Canon, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, endgame ot4, he's actually a sweetie tho, there are some sad moments but also some really sweet moments, they ALL are sweeties who are way too in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttonjimin/pseuds/prettyluke
Summary: Ashton, Luke, Michael, and Calum's perfect world crumbles unexpectedly when an earthquake threatens to break them apart.





	fault lines tremble underneath my glass house

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barelyirwin (Igrievewiththee)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=barelyirwin+%28Igrievewiththee%29).



> hiya guys! quick warning that while there is no violence per se, there are earthquake-related injuries that involve quite a bit of blood and some broken bones. additionally, the fic is written where the present is 2017 and includes flashbacks to the past and how the boys became soulmates, so pay attention to the years!! anything pre-2017 is a flashback to the past. this is way off the beaten path of what i normally write, so i'm kind of nervous but i'm hoping you all like it.

**November 16, 2017**

**1:24 AM**

Luke is the worst when he gets clingy. Ashton is lying on the couch with his hand behind his head, watching Michael and Calum sing Nickelback’s “How You Remind Me” in their best Chad Kroeger voices, which stopped being funny ten minutes ago. Luke crawls on top of Ashton and rests his head on Ashton’s chest, fingers curling on top of Ashton’s shoulders. He wastes no time making himself comfortable, and Ashton doesn’t really mind. Having one of his soulmates this close to him sends him into an emotional high.

“Why are you on top of me?” Ashton wonders aloud, amused. Luke isn’t ninety pounds anymore. He’s fully grown and broad enough to blanket Ashton with his body. Ashton doesn’t bother trying to persuade him to get off, just lies there and lets Luke’s weight comfort him.

“They’re not paying attention to me,” Luke whines, nuzzling his face in Ashton’s chest. Luke gets needy when he hasn’t had enough physical contact, much more so than the other boys, so Ashton always bristles slightly when the other two ignore him. Luke needs touch like he needs oxygen. Ashton always wonders if the universe gave Luke three soulmates to compensate for his touch starvation, or if it’s just a Luke thing.

Ashton takes his hand from behind his head and rests it on the back of Luke’s, long fingers weaving through the curls that are starting to grow in Luke’s hair. It’s getting long again, and Ashton sort of doesn’t want him to cut it. “I know, baby,” he croons, stroking Luke’s back with his other hand. “They’re not paying attention to me either.”

Luke turns his head so he can look at Ashton, chin digging into Ashton’s chest. He smiles sweetly, all sleepy and soft, and Ashton can’t help himself. He really, really wants to kiss Luke, like, now. He’s about to pull Luke up and make out with him like his life depends on it when the rest of their band finishes singing and takes notice.

“No fair! You always hog Ash,” Calum complains, flopping down literally on top of Luke. Luke lets out a quiet _oof_ and Ashton groans out loud, deflating under the extra weight. “I want cuddles, too.”

“Not my fault you guys were busy,” Luke pants, struggling to breathe. “Saw my opportunity and took it.”

Michael decides the best course of action is to pile on top of Calum, which makes a very precarious and possibly lethal tower. Ashton thinks he’ll probably stop breathing soon, but he’ll definitely die happy.

“I’m so glad we can cuddle like this,” Michael says happily. Ashton wheezes weakly, his brain confused about whether he should be happy all his soulmates are so close or concerned about his ability to respirate.

“Get off,” Luke grunts, smushed against Ashton’s chest. “This is _my_ time with Ash. You ignored me.”

“Aw, Lukey,” Calum sighs, petting Luke’s hair awkwardly. It’s fond, though, and Luke seems to relax under his touch. “Sorry, baby. You know Mikey and I get so caught up.”

It happens this way a lot, the four of them splitting up. Michael and Calum found each other first, and they forget sometimes that it’s not just the two of them anymore. Ashton manages to sneak a hand around to Luke’s side and rub his hip soothingly. Luke whines nonverbally into his shoulder.

“You’re still our sweetest little baby,” Michael coos, reaching down and groping at the stack of bodies to find Luke. Calum yelps in protest when Michael’s hand pokes him in the side. “You know that, right Luke?”

“What about me?” Ashton asks petulantly, eager to hear them say they love him too even though he knows perfectly well they do, even if they do pair off too often for Ashton’s liking.

“You too,” Michael assures him. “You’re all my favorite.”

“We’re never going to be apart,” Calum says lovingly, kissing the back of Luke’s head. Luke giggles, giving in and flushing with laughter. “Just the four of us like this forever.”

The bus rattles across the state into Oregon, and Ashton tries to fit his arms around the pile of boys on top of him. It feels like a perfect day, but then again, ever since he fell in love, every day with his soulmates is like a sunset. None are the same, but all of them are beautiful.

 

* * *

 

**February  14, 2008**

Luke wakes up in the morning almost sick with excitement. He’s never cared about Valentine’s Day before, since it usually means his parents are extra sappy, and he hates that. He doesn’t go downstairs immediately, so worked up his hands are shaking, but it’s not a bad thing for once, it’s just that sometimes his body gets confused between anxiety and excitement. That’s why he gets nervous the night before his birthday and Christmas Eve. This morning, though, he stands up and looks at himself in the mirror, wearing Jack’s hand-me-down t-shirt and a pair of briefs. He tries to find something that’s different about himself—a lot of people say that you glow when you start getting your soulmate dreams—but Luke doesn’t think he looks any different. But his minor disappointment isn’t enough to dampen his good mood.

He forces himself to put some sweatpants on before he rushes downstairs because he feels like the news will probably be received better if he looks presentable. His heart thuds in his chest as he replays the dream in his head and takes the stairs so fast he nearly topples down the last few. He barrels into the kitchen, where his mother is flipping heart-shaped pancakes and his brothers and father are already sitting at the table, eating what she’s made so far. As his mother says, “Good morning, sweetheart,” he skids to a stop in the middle of the kitchen, beaming with red cheeks.

“No running in the house,” his father gently admonishes.

“I had my dream!” Luke practically yells, excitement radiating through his whole body. He’s practically vibrating, unable to contain himself or heed his father’s words. He wants everyone to know, right now, that something monumental just happened overnight. “I had my first dream!”

The response is instantaneous. His mother beams, flipping the pancake she’s cooking before hugging him with the spatula still in hand. “Oh, honey, that’s wonderful! Sit down at the table, tell us about it. How are you going to meet her?”

Luke plops down next to Ben, grinning. “Mum,” he says, starting to laugh. “It’s amazing, I—I have two soulmates.”

Jack and Ben both gape at him. Ben got his soulmate dream a couple of years ago, but Jack still hasn’t gotten his, and Jack is looking at Luke with a mixture of awe and jealousy. Luke feels his chest puff up when he realizes that he’s got something Jack doesn’t have. “Two soulmates?” his father says, smiling and rubbing Luke’s shoulder. “That’s pretty special, champ.”

“And, um.” Luke’s smile fades a little bit. He’s more nervous about this part. “They’re both...boys.”

There’s a brief silence that turns Luke’s stomach, but his mother rushes to his rescue. “Honey, that’s so exciting. Two soulmates! Imagine that. You know not many people get two. You’re a lucky duck.”

“This isn’t fair,” Jack complains, though not with real malice. “I can’t believe Luke’s getting two soulmates before I even get my first one.”

“I’m going to meet them together,” Luke reveals in a hushed tone. “Um, I think it must be at a different school, because I was wearing a different uniform. They’re my year. I’m going to meet them at Year 7 orientation.”

“Well, I am so excited for you,” Liz says, coming over to squeeze his hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. I can’t wait for you to meet your two soulmates.”

 

* * *

 

**November 16, 2017**

**2:04 PM**

“Hurry up, lazies,” Ashton scolds, slapping Michael’s ass as he passes by the front lounge. Michael jerks and scowls at Ashton’s passing figure. He’s been lying here ever since the body-tower toppled, which was really only his fault in the first place. Calum and Luke are both sitting on the backs of Michael’s legs, which Michael doesn’t mind all that much, and they’re watching something on Calum’s phone together while Michael tries to nap. They’ve arrived at the venue, though, and Ashton really drives his bandmates to get a move on so they can get everything done that they need to, which includes getting properly dressed, private soundcheck, and then instrumental warm-up. It shouldn’t take that long, honestly, but if they didn’t get here so early, nothing would ever get done. What can Michael say? He likes to take his time.

They walk up to the venue through the back, always wary these days of entering venues from entrances where fans might see them. It’s way too early for them to queue up, but they do it anyway. Michael thinks they’re crazy, that _he_ wouldn’t even queue up for seven hours to see his own band, but he’s incredibly touched that they care enough to do so. Everything’s a picture perfect dream. Michael can’t imagine anything actually being better than touring the world with his best friends and soulmates and playing music to a crowd of thousands every night. It’s more than he should have ever dreamed about.

For an American November, it’s unusually warm. The air is a comfortable temperature, just the right balance of warmth and breeze that will make playing onstage a little less strenuous. Too cold, and Michael feels like his lungs burn to keep up. Too hot, and he sweats buckets and gets dizzy. It should be a perfect show. Michael hums to himself, walking alongside Calum and reaching for his hand to hold. Calum accepts it without question and tangles their fingers together, flashing Michael a quick smile.

They usually do a light physical warm-up first, like jogs and things of that nature, which isn’t meant to tire them out all that much. Michael still hates it, even though he knows it keeps him fit and he’d put on a terrible show without it. It was one thing when they played tiny rooms where they were close enough to touch the fans, but the stages they play are much bigger now. If he didn’t get at least a _little_ fit, he’d probably collapse from exhaustion onstage. It’s worth it, he supposes.

“I wanna go on a walk around the venue,” Calum announces as they walk to the backstage lounge. “Just to warm up before I work out.”

“Get dressed in workout clothes first,” Ashton reminds him. “Don’t get your stage clothes all stinky. Nobody wants to smell your sweat.”

“I do,” Michael says, lifting Calum’s arm and sniffing long and hard. He doesn’t smell bad (or, Michael should say, doesn’t smell bad _yet_ ). Calum giggles and pulls his arm away, shying back. “Oh, yeah. That’s the smell of a _man._ ”

“Gross,” Luke snorts, flopping down on the sofa. He makes grabby hands at Ashton, so Ashton comes closer, always a sucker for Luke’s doe eyes. “Go change.”

Calum imitates him in a high pitched voice for a moment, teasing, before he grabs his workout clothes and drags Michael into the dressing room. Michael grins, eager to be a part of whatever Calum wants to do, even if it involves exercising. They shut the door behind them, laughing together. “They’re so boring,” Calum complains with an affectionate smile, like he doesn’t really hate that at all. They’re so suited to each other, those two. Michael is unbearably fond of Ashton’s pseudo-parenting and Luke’s refusal to do anything that will get him in trouble. Sneaking him out of secondary school for band practice was always excruciatingly difficult.

“We should take them on the walk with us,” Calum says. “We should be spending more time as a group.”

“Next concert we will,” Michael bargains. He’s come a long way with the whole Calum not being exclusively his thing, but he can’t help being just a little bit protective over Calum. He blames it on Calum being his first soulmate. “Just us today, Cal. Please?”

Calum smiles, giving in and pulling a plain t-shirt over his head. He’s already got his shorts on, so he bends over and grabs his running shoes from the floor. “Hurry up, then.” He flicks Michael’s shoulder, an indication that Michael needs to speed up and get dressed before Calum leaves without him. Michael takes the hint and picks up his pace, changing quickly and tying on his shoes.

“Tomorrow we should give Luke some attention,” Calum adds, sort of to himself. “You know how he gets when we’re off for too long.”

“Tomorrow,” Michael agrees, side-arming Calum and pulling him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “We have all the time in the world to spend together. He can wait one more day.”

 

* * *

 

**August 20, 2003**

Calum is seven and a half plus a couple of months or so, and his first soulmate dream has him in tears as soon as he wakes up, the image of his soulmate in his Year 3 class stealing his brand new crayons both frightening and disappointing him. He sniffles, wiping his eyes, frustrated by an injustice that hasn’t even happened yet. He’s all too young to be finding his soulmate. He’s heard stories of soulmates who couldn’t stand to be together for so long, soulmates who knew they were meant to be since they were children and nearly went mad because of it. His parents didn’t have their soulmate dream until they were in their twenties, and Mali is already twelve and hasn’t had hers yet. He didn’t think he’d get his soulmate dream this soon, wasn’t ready at all.

His other worry is that his soulmate is a boy, and he doesn’t know how that works. Is that allowed? Is it bad? Will the other kids laugh if they find out? What if his soulmate hates him? There’s no rule that says your soulmate has to like you, even if you are meant to be together.

His mother finds him still sobbing quietly in bed when she comes to get him for school and gasps, sitting on the edge of his bed and gathering him quickly into a hug, crooning reassurances. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asks, wiping the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “Are you sick?”

“No,” he sobs, sniffling and wiping his nose with the sleeve of his long-johns. “I had my soulmate dream.”

His mother looks surprised, which Calum expects, because he read one time in Mali’s textbook that on average, people’s soulmate dreams don’t start until they’re thirteen or older. He doesn’t know what average really means, but he knows he’s not thirteen. “Are you sure?” she asks, hushed.

Calum nods, distraught. He knows because he _knows_ ; everyone’s said that you know, because the dream has sort of a golden, ethereal (his dad says that means it’s too pretty to believe) glow, and you just have this feeling. And Calum has never had a dream like that before, plus his body was telling him during the dream that he wanted to hold the boy’s hand, but then his crayons were gone and he woke up.

“I’m sure,” he says, hiccuping and trying to calm down. “I’m not lying.”

“No, no, I know you’re not.” His mother strokes back his hair soothingly. “Why don’t you tell me why your dream upset you?”

“He’s a boy,” Calum says, bursting into tears all over again. “And he’s going to steal my crayons next year.”

His mother is quick to hush him and stroke his back, knowing the fastest way to assure him is to give him physical contact and kind words. Calum feels like his world is ending. His soulmate is going to hate him and he’s going to end up lonely forever. It’s not the way he wanted to have his first soulmate dreams. It was supposed to be like a fairy tale, like it is for everyone else.

“Baby, it’s okay to have a boy for your soulmate,” she tells him, smiling and grabbing a tissue from the box on his bedside table to wipe his tears. “You aren’t the only one. There are other boys with boy soulmates. There are girls with girl soulmates. Did you know, there are even people with more than one soulmate?”

“Really?” Calum quiets down, startled into calmness. “It doesn’t make me weird?”

“It’s perfectly natural. And some people don’t meet in a nice way. It doesn’t mean he’s not your soulmate, or that it won’t work out. Think about it like this. You have so much time with him to figure out how to get along, right? Now that you know he’s going to take your crayons, you can ask him to share. These things aren’t flukes, you know. You’re put together for a reason. You have your whole life to figure out why.”

Calum takes his mother’s words to heart, comforted by the new knowledge that all of this is okay, normal even. He didn’t know it happened to other people, too. He takes another gasping breath. “So it’s going to be okay?” he says, still afraid that maybe, just maybe this whole soulmate thing wasn’t meant for him.

“Of course it is,” she assures him, kissing his forehead. “Congratulations on getting your dream. I’m so excited for you. Why don’t we go tell Mali?”

 

* * *

 

**November 16, 2017**

**2:15 PM**

“Luke, c’mon, they’re out of the dressing room,” Ashton presses. Luke is on top of him again, mouthing at Ashton’s jaw insistently. They need to get dressed, but neither of them is moving. Ashton never can find it in himself to push Luke away. “Babe, we gotta,” he starts again, reaching for Luke’s arms. Luke pins Ashton’s arms back to the couch and kisses up to his mouth, swiping his tongue over Ashton’s bottom lip. Luke hums and smiles against Ashton’s lips, triumphant.

“Don’t wanna,” he says simply, perfectly content to be where he is. Ashton’s frankly lost the will to keep at it, so he just shuts up and kisses Luke back, nice and slow. He wonders idly what Michael and Calum are doing, but he doesn’t really care now that Luke is on top of him. He might even be able to squeeze a quickie in with Luke right here if they make good use of their time.

“Okay, okay,” Ashton murmurs, hooking his thumbs in the back belt loops of Luke’s black jeans. His other fingers come to rest over Luke’s backside, splaying over the swell of his ass. “That how you wanna play, angel?”

Luke giggles and grinds down against Ashton. “Yeah. ‘S how I wanna play.” Luke lifts his hips back up and stops kissing Ashton, a nasty grin on his face. “But I don’t know if we have time. Maybe we should go get dressed.”

“Don’t you dare,” Ashton hisses, yanking Luke back down on him. “We have time now. It’ll serve those pricks right for ditching us again.”

Luke snickers and puts his lips back on Ashton’s where they should be, and Ashton grins, squeezing Luke’s ass and kissing him eagerly. Luke always tastes like the strawberry chapstick he uses to keep his lips from getting dry and to give them the gentle pink that everyone thinks is natural (which, really, Luke’s lips are nice on their own, but with a touch of strawberry chapstick they’re _nice_ ). Ashton likes kissing all of his boyfriends, but there’s something sweeter about Luke with just a touch of dirty.

Ashton is starting to get hard in his jeans when he begins to feel like the couch is shaking. “Settle down,” he tells Luke, knowing Luke gets antsy and can’t keep still, even when they’re making out. Luke freezes still above him, though, and that’s when Ashton realizes that Luke’s not the one shaking.

“Is this an earthquake?” Luke says out loud, sitting up and straddling Ashton’s hips. The shaking continues, not strong enough to be disconcerting, but definitely not normal, either.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ashton huffs a short laugh. “Guess we should probably get out of here, right?”

“Yeah, grab your phone,” Luke says, climbing off Ashton and reaching for his phone on the table next to the couch. Just as he does, the shaking stops. He pauses, turns around to look at Ashton, and laughs. “Guess it was just a little one, huh.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Mood ruined?” Luke says, wincing and scrunching his nose.

“Not entirely,” Ashton says. “C’mere. I’ll get you off, and then just maybe I’ll be in the mood again.”

Luke grins and sidles on over, and Ashton forgets all about the tiny earthquake.

 

* * *

 

**2:22 PM**

Calum had felt the small tremors in the ground about ten minutes ago, but when the real earthquake hits, he’s knocked off his feet. He goes tumbling to the ground, the whole world falling horizontal as he hits the dirt path. His head smacks into the ground, not hard enough to knock him out, but hard enough to give him a headache, and when he looks up, he sees that Michael’s fallen on hands and knees. His head spins, threatening to bring breakfast up his throat. The ground is still shaking so violently Calum doesn’t want to try getting up.

“Cal,” Michael yells, crawling over to Calum. Calum can see the blood on his knees; his jeans are torn. Calum can hardly see clearly. His head hurts so badly he can feel it throbbing. “Calum!”

Michael reaches him, was only a few feet away when the earthquake started. His hands are immediately on Calum, looping around Calum’s shoulders and hauling him up. Michael pulls him close, cradling Calum’s upper body in his lap and hunching over him, effectively covering his head. Calum’s dizzy eyes track the buildings and trees near them, and he knows they should probably get away. But the quake hasn’t stopped yet.

They don’t talk. Calum can hear Michael’s heavy, erratic breathing above him, hiccups like he’s crying separating breaths. Calum’s head is clearing a bit, so he reaches up blindly to find Michael’s clammy hand. Michael’s fingers close gratefully around his, and he squeezes so tightly, breath trapped in his lungs with no escape. He shuts his eyes and for what seems like an eternity, holds onto Michael’s hand like it’s a lifeline. It seems to last forever, the quake, and Calum curls on his side, head pillowed in Michael’s lap and shielded by Michael’s torso. Calum’s never felt the world move like this, shaking with such force the ground might just split open and the sky might fall. Calum feels like he’s in a popcorn machine, being bounced around and turned inside out. When at last the ground stills, Calum doesn’t have the courage to open his eyes.

“It’s over,” Michael finally says, his voice weirdly choked. “Cal. Look.”

Calum pushes himself into a sitting position, still disoriented, and follows Michael’s hand to see what he’s pointing at. There are people stumbling out of the venue to join the crowds of people already there. The building looks like it’s collapsed into itself, a mess of concrete rubble and rising dust. Calum feels his stomach drop like he’s on the highest roller coaster in the world.

“Luke, Ash,” he says frantically, scrabbling to get to his feet. He staggers a bit, nearly knocks Michael over, and Michael puts an arm under his arms, steadying him. “They were inside.”

“They probably got out,” Michael says reasonably, but he looks shaken up. “We’ll look for them. Come on. Is your head okay?”

Calum is vaguely worried that he might have a concussion. His head has never hurt this badly before, except for when he got a concussion during footy practice in Year 9. But it can wait. He’s already feeling the tug of being far from his soulmates and needing them close, and suddenly Michael’s presence isn’t enough to satiate the instinctive need built into his body by millennia of evolution. People are supposed to be with their soulmates. They’re stronger as a unit. And Luke, poor Luke who can never stand to be apart for more than five minutes, is somewhere looking for him and Michael. Calum desperately hopes Ashton and Luke are together, because someone has to take care of Luke.

“We gotta find them,” Calum says, hushed and terrified. He starts looking around and sees collapsed buildings everywhere, fallen trees, a fire in the distance. The quake probably lasted only minutes. How could a city go down so quickly? He feels like he’s in a nightmare, where he survived but the world has stopped turning. How unexpectedly things change.

“Your head,” Michael repeats, gently pressing his fingers to where Calum hit the ground. Calum jerks his head away, trying to escape the radiating pain that worsens at Michael’s touch. “You should get to a hospital. You went down so _hard_.”

It’s the worry in Michael’s voice that distracts him momentarily from his goal of finding their other two soulmates. But he can’t focus on himself right now. “Find them,” he begs, pulling at Michael’s arm. “We’ll go after we know they’re safe.”

“Okay, okay.” Michael takes a firm hold of his hand. Calum feels the tension in his body relax just enough. “We’ll go ask someone if they got out with everyone else.”

Calum nods and lets Michael lead him toward the group of people just outside the venue, a mix of crew and employees who are milling around now, looking at the ruined building and wondering what to do. There’s a current of fear charging the air, and Calum hears a siren go off in the distance. He hears someone say, hushed, “It’s a bad one.”

He doesn’t really know what that means.

“Hey!” Michael yells, waving at the people. Calum follows behind him, clutching his head and trying to focus. “Hey, we were supposed to play here tonight! Our bandmates, they’re—they were inside. Has anyone seen them?”

There’s some quiet chatter, quick check-ins and then, blank stares and head shaking. Calum feels his heart sink so low. He looks back at the building, his eyes stinging. “Mike,” he says, tears clouding his vision. “What if they’re—”

“Shh,” Michael says quickly, turning to pull Calum into his arms. Calum doesn’t know how he can be so calm, or when he found this kind of composure. Calum feels like he’s supposed to be the one comforting Michael. But his head hurts and he’s scared and the awful possibilities are creeping in. “Hey. We’ll find them. I’m sure they got out in time. Look how many other people did. We just have to keep looking.”

“Mike, I,” Calum starts, and then sinks down to his knees. His stomach hurts in a weird way. Tears drip down his cheeks and wet the grass. “Do you feel it?”

“Cal, we don’t know they’re still in there,” Michael says, crouching down next to him. “You’re probably giving yourself a stomachache just worrying about it.”

“Something’s wrong.” Calum sniffles, touching his head again. “I can feel it.”

Michael is quiet for a while. Calum doesn’t know if he feels nothing, or if he just doesn’t want to alarm Calum further. Finally, Michael says, “Let’s keep looking.”

Calum wants to sink to the ground and cry, but he lets Michael pull him to his feet and start walking around the perimeter of the venue.

 

* * *

 

The minute the debris settles, Ashton can hear a raspy, drawn-out cry from several feet away, and all he can think of is _Luke_ , and _pain_. His brain connects the pieces. Luke is in pain. He tries to sort out where he is, but all he can think of is that his chest is kind of heavy and his left arm hurts a lot. His eyes are open, and he knows it’s day time, but he can’t see two feet in front of him. He’s on his back, and he can feel that there’s debris resting on most of his body, but when he tries to move, the weight on his chest stops him. There’s plaster and dust in his mouth, and he turns his head to the side and spits, trying to clean his mouth out.

The wails continue and intensify. They’re not sobs, or words, just moans of pain. Ashton tries to make sense of his situation.

“Luke?” he calls, his voice tinged with desperation. His left arm is sort of on fire. Pain lances through every time he tries to move. It’s like his worst nightmare. He can’t drum if his arm is broken. “Luke, where are you?”

The guttural noises stop, and he hears Luke say, breathless with pain, “Ash.”

He sounds close, but Ashton can’t see him. He’s searching in the dark for a flash of his blue eyes, a glint of his golden hair, and there’s nothing. Ashton wants to find him, grab him, pull him out of here and find a way to stop those noises from ever coming out of his mouth again. “Luke, are you okay?” he asks, reaching out his right arm. He claws at the rubble with his fingers, trying to clear a way to Luke. It’s hopeless. He can’t shift his body out of the debris far enough to make any sort of headway.

“Ash, I—” Luke cuts off, groans again, high-pitched this time. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. My legs.”

It’s not really what Ashton wants to hear.

“What about your legs?” Ashton says. He’s walking that line between panic and calm, on the verge of losing it but just holding together. He needs to know Luke is okay, that they’re both okay and that one of them is going to find a way out of here and get help. Yes. That’s what they have to do. _Keep calm. Clear head._ “Luke, tell me what’s happening.”

“Something fell on them,” Luke sobs out, then goes _ah ah ahhhh_ again, loud and agonized. “Ash, I can’t move. I can’t feel—I—”

“Okay, Luke,” Ashton says, trying to keep his voice steady even though he wants to cry and wants to scream and wants out of here right now, right now. “Luke, we’re going to—listen. We’re going to just—stay calm, okay? Tell me where you are, how you’re lying.”

“I’m—on my stomach,” Luke says, his voice absolutely saturated in panic. “Something’s on my legs, and, it’s so heavy.”

“Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t know.” Luke sobs quietly. He sounds so distant, even though Ashton can tell when he’s louder that he isn’t all that far. “I don’t know. I’m—scratched.”

“But nothing major?” Ashton’s own fear subsides, just enough for him to think clearly. “Can you check?”

“O-okay,” Luke stutters through his tears. Ashton can hear shifting, shuffling. The silence eats at Ashton, a big white empty vacuum of noise. He waits anxiously for the answer. “No. Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, Luke, just stay calm,” Ashton repeats. He has to think clearly, take stock of his own injuries. Nothing hit his head, and he’s not bleeding majorly, either, as far as he can tell. It’s just his arm and some pain in his chest. Fixable things, probably. Nothing that will kill him. “Someone will come find us. Calum, and Michael, they—they’ll get someone to find us. It probably won’t take long.”

“Okay.” Luke’s response is vulnerable, tense with pain. Ashton wonders if his legs are broken. He’s oddly glad that it’s not him, because Luke trusts him to take care of them both, and he knows Luke would fall apart under this level of pressure.

What do people do in these situations? Should he try and scream for help? Should he move, or will that make his injuries worse? He’s supposed to know what to do. All these years he’s spent caring for his soulmates, and now he has to take care of just one, and he’s blanking. His phone was on the table when the earthquake hit. He reaches around in the space surrounding him, but he doesn’t actually expect to find it. He doesn’t.

“Luke, can you reach your phone?” he asks. The crying noises stop again. More shuffling, more silence. Then a sniffle.

“It’s broken.”

Of course it is. That was stupid of him. There’s no way either of their phones would have survived. They’ll have to think of something else. Ashton squints, peering through the darkness in search of any light at all. If he can just find an opening, maybe they can get out that way. He lifts his right arm and tries to push at some of the rubble, whatever’s in reach. Some of it shifts, slides, and dust and dirt waterfall over the edges. He can’t tell how it’s all lying. He realizes, he doesn’t know that if he moves one piece, it won’t bring more concrete crashing down on top of him or Luke.

“Luke, can you yell for help?” he asks, narrowing down his options quickly. “Someone might hear us.”

Luke inhales and exhales sharply. Ashton can tell he’s fighting off the pain, trying to keep it at bay long enough to form words. “Okay.”

“On three, okay?” Ashton knows it’s going to be hard to yell with his chest so compressed. “One, two, three.”

On three, they both scream as loud as they can, yelling whatever words come to mind. Most of it is just _help help help_ over and over again. Luke’s voice doesn’t last long, petering out quickly. Ashton carries on after his voice fades away, charged by the slim hope that someone might hear and rescue them. After a while, his throat starts to hurt. He stops and stares up at the debris blocking out the light, tears starting to spring up in his eyes.

“We’ll try again in a little while,” Ashton says to himself, mostly to give himself something to hold onto. A little ways to his right, Luke cries quietly.

 

* * *

 

**3:05 PM**

It’s getting close to the hour mark, and Michael is running out of ways to keep Calum calm and to keep himself from going down the same path. The venue exits were a bust, even though they circled around twice before emergency responders physically forced them to get off the premises, afraid the trees and other buildings were a risk during aftershocks. Michael grabbed Calum an ice pack from an ambulance nearby, and they sit on the curb together a street away from the venue and call Luke and Ashton’s phones on their cells.

It’s useless. The cell towers have gone down, and they weren’t picking up anyway. Scratch that off the list of ways to confirm their safety.

“I have a bad feeling,” Calum says. He’s said that too many times now, and it’s starting to make Michael nervous. He hasn’t said it yet, but he has a bad feeling, too. It feels like when you’re about to throw up and it never comes. Or when you get caught doing something you shouldn’t. It feels like being far from your soulmate, but amplified. Even when they’re continents apart, he’s never felt it like this. He wonders if this is how Luke feels on a regular basis. He wonders how badly Luke feels right now. He wishes he’d taken Luke’s soulmate pangs more seriously when they were still safe and together.

“The phones aren’t working,” Michael says stupidly. He puts his phone back in his phone pocket and questions for the thousandth time whether they got out or whether they’re still somewhere in the venue. These kinds of things aren’t supposed to happen to him. Any minute now, he’s going to get some sort of sign that they were worried over nothing. He’s staring out at the street, can’t believe this is all happening. This morning felt like any other morning. There are ambulances and fire trucks everywhere, fires rising all over the city in the distance, collapsed houses amidst ones still standing. He felt the shaking himself, and still he doesn’t know how such solid things have crumbled.

“We’d know if they were,” Calum starts, and then pauses, licking his lips. “I mean, we’d know, if—”

“We’d know,” Michael says abruptly. He doesn’t want to think about it, even if he doesn’t think it’s happened. A little ways down the street, a woman sobs on the pavement, sprawled out like she’s about to sleep. Michael saw her scream when they carried out a stretcher covered by a white sheet. She wailed, _my soulmate. He was my soulmate._

When his grandma died, his grandpa said that he could feel it, even though he was at home and she was in the hospital. He woke up that morning and told them she was gone before they’d even gotten the call. It’s that quick. The woman on the pavement hasn’t moved in half an hour except to beat the ground with her fists. If even one of them were gone, Michael would know. If both of them were gone—

What would it feel like? Is it the same as when one soulmate dies, or is it doubled? How would Michael go from three soulmates to one? He loves Calum with all his heart and wanted to keep him to himself for so long, but he doesn’t want that anymore. Ever since they met Ashton, he knew they were complete together.

“We should go back to the venue,” Michael says, standing. “Find someone who can help us get them out. There has to be a firefighter who will help us.”

“Do you think they’re in there?” Calum asks. Michael feels like they both know the answer. They’ve wasted forty minutes trying stupid things like calling their cell phones, which Michael knew wasn’t likely to work, but clung to as a last hope. Like they’d just pick up their phones and say, _yeah, sorry we missed you, we’re safe and you were worried about nothing_.

Michael shrugs. He’s losing his ability to be strong in the face of death and danger. They’ve exhausted all their options. The world is ending around them, and here they are, safe and sound. It shouldn’t be that way. They should have been down there with Luke and Ashton. They could have been inside, too. What if they hadn’t gone on that walk?

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about it. So he stops.

“Let’s go,” he says, tugging urgently on Calum’s arm. He forces himself to remember that he doesn’t have _that feeling_ , so all he has to do is keep a clear head and make a plan. “They need us.”

 

* * *

 

**January 15, 2009**

Michael has told Calum time and time again that he most certainly does not want to meet their other soulmate.

Like, okay. They’re supposed to be together for some reason, obviously. Michael’s a little on the thick side, but he knows that much. But the day he’d had the dream during Year 6, he woke up vowing he was not, under any circumstances, going to let someone new into the relationship he had with Calum already. They’d been a pair since Year 3, and though it took a lot trial and error to forge an actual friendship with Calum (which he’d initially botched when he took Calum’s crayons without a second thought), he thinks they’re doing pretty well for kid soulmates. And there’s just no way that Michael is going to let some little blond bitch wedge his way between them.

The universe really fucked this one up. Most people are ecstatic about getting more than one soulmate. It’s like how you expect cake at a birthday party, which is great, but then it turns out out to be ice cream cake, and that’s good. This ice cream cake is the wrong flavor for Michael. The universe should have picked someone else for that poor kid.

His plan for today is to go to school, have someone mark him off as present, and then sneak out of the auditorium as soon as possible. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to cheat fate entirely; he’ll probably cross paths with the kid at some point, especially since Calum’s so set on meeting him after all, but he’ll put it off as long as he can. And if he doesn’t meet the boy the way his dream told him he was meant to, then maybe they won’t be soulmates after all. He doesn’t really know how this whole fate thing works, but it can’t hurt to try.

He honestly dislikes the boy just for being his and Calum’s soulmate. It messes _everything_ up. He and Calum have known each other since they were kids, really, and even though they got off to a rough start, he’s really attached to his first soulmate. He would die for Calum. They’re best friends and when they get a little older, Michael thinks they’ll start calling each other boyfriends. Calum’s mum wants them to wait a little before they start being a real couple, but Michael kissed Calum over the Christmas break in his bedroom when nobody was home. It was a new feeling, to have Calum’s soft, plump lips moving against his own. It was kind of wet, kind of strange, but nice. Now every time he thinks about the other boy, he thinks about how he’ll definitely want to kiss Calum (because who wouldn’t?), and how that isn’t okay at all. And Calum will inevitably like the boy more than he likes Michael, because, okay, Michael isn’t always the best. He’s certainly not very hot. He’s sort of chubby and awkward and all he has to show for himself is he’s good at video games and guitar.

So it’s decided. Michael wants nothing to do with that boy. He’s fine just with Calum, and that’s the way he wanted it to be. One soulmate. That’s all Michael needs.

Everything goes more or less according to plan. He shows up at the auditorium and makes sure he gets checked in at the front desk, and he’s about to go right out the back door “to the bathroom” when Calum grabs him by the arm and pulls him aside.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Calum says, pinning Michael in place with those dark eyes. “I think you should meet him.”

“I don’t want to meet him,” Michael says, stubbornly standing his ground. He’s made up his mind. “And I don’t really want you to meet him, either. We’re happy, aren’t we? Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Calum softens, hand reaching down to hold Michael’s. “Mike, he’s not going to change anything. He’s just—something to try.”

“I’m not meeting him. You can’t make me.” Michael sticks his tongue out, childish as always, and Calum bursts out laughing, releasing his hand. They’ve talked about this before, a few times since they had the dream on the same night. Michael was downright scandalized to hear Calum say he was excited to meet their third partner. He was sure Calum would be as against accepting him as Michael was, and he’s frankly a little offended that Calum isn’t worried this new boy might steal Michael from him. Does he not want to keep Michael to himself? But he can’t stop Calum, and he loves him too much to be mad at him for it.

“Okay,” Calum says, nodding. “Maybe you’ll change your mind later.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. I should go sit down.” Calum flashes Michael a disappointed smile and waves, turning and going to meet with the group he’s supposed to be with. Then Michael slips out the back door, easy and painless. He breathes a sigh of relief outside, smirking at the thought of that poor boy finding out one of his soulmates isn’t there.

Michael thinks he’s in the clear and walks around for a few minutes, lauding himself for successfully playing truant from orientation. It’s not long, unfortunately, before a teacher spots him, reprimands him, and nearly drags him back into the auditorium despite Michael’s grumbles and protests. So, it turns out, it’s not so easy to dodge your fate. Michael definitely thinks there should have been a section about this in their textbooks.

Calum spots him immediately, and Michael grudgingly goes over to his group, still trying to calculate any miniscule possibility of escaping a new soulmate today. The odds are not looking good for him.

“Got caught, huh?” Calum taunts under his breath, smiling smugly. Of course. Calum probably tipped the teacher off. Motherfucker. “Well, I haven’t spotted him yet. You’re in luck.”

Michael sighs and takes his place next to Calum, trying to focus on the packets they’ve been given to skim over.  A rule book, a handy map of campus, etcetera. It’s all printed on a miserable looking blue paper and strains his eyes to read. Secondary school is going to suck. New place, new teachers, new friends, new soulmate. Michael hates change. He’s happy with just him and Calum. He never wanted it any differently.

“Oh my god,” he hears Calum whisper. He looks over at Calum, startled. Calum is looking dead ahead, his brown eyes suddenly alight. “Mike, it’s him. He’s there.”

Michael follows Calum’s line of sight, dread settling heavily in his stomach. So this is it. Fate comes to bite him in the ass. First it gave him Calum and then took him away again. He looks for the boy from his dreams in the multitude of faces, waiting for that spark in his stomach like when he first brushed hands with Calum.

He sees him, finally, about ten feet away. He’s turned away, so Michael can’t see the color of his sleepy eyes, but his nose is small and upturned, and his lips are the softest pink Michael has ever seen on anyone. He’s just a little chubby, and small, smaller than Calum. His gold-blond hair flops in his eyes, just a bit too long. Michael’s stomach twists, and all the doubts in his head start screaming again. Of course he isn’t, like, drop-dead gorgeous or anything, but in a few years? Michael doesn’t know.

Then he turns, and Michael catches the sharp blue of his eyes. That clinches it. His eyes are the purest blue Michael’s ever seen, purer than he thought was possible, like clear water, and Michael thinks of how much purer they are than his own sea-green eyes, and that’s it. He wants the boy gone, far away. He wants Calum to stop looking at him in awe and to stop looking like his world has expanded. It hasn’t, not really.

The boy catches Michael’s eyes, and then his own eyes widen almost comically. He’s definitely had his dream, then. It’s not one of those situations where the soulmate thing didn’t go both ways. That’s not common, but it’s happened. The boy looks almost in awe at Michael and Calum.

Calum waves tentatively at him. Michael grits his teeth and tries not to blow a fuse. Calum looks way too fucking eager, like a kid about to get ice cream. The boy waves back, smiling shyly. He brushes his floppy fringe out of his eyes. Calum opens his mouth and says, “Are you our—”

“Soulmate?” the boy finishes excitedly, nodding rapidly. “I had my dreams about you.”

“I’m Calum. This is Michael,” Calum introduces them. Michael shoves his hands in the pockets of his jumper, watching the interaction sullenly. “I guess—” Calum lowers his voice conspiratorially. “We’re all soulmates, then.” It’s not like boys being soulmates is such a big deal, even three of them—there are a couple other same-gendered pairs around school—but it feels like the kind of thing that deserves to be kept private. After all, not everybody has to be in their business about it.

“I’m Luke,” Luke says timidly, offering his hand to Calum first. Calum accepts it and shakes his hand. “Wow, I—I can’t believe we’re actually soulmates.” Luke looks back and forth between them. “How long have you guys been—”

“Four years,” Michael cuts in. “Since we were nine.” He sizes Luke up, thinks he could probably take him in a fight. He can definitely scare Luke off. “So don’t think you can just come in here and there’ll be three of us. It’s always just been me and Cal.”

Luke’s mouth parts slightly, his face freezing in shock. It’s clear he hadn’t been expecting the hit, like anyone would, and Michael thinks to himself how ironic it is that he fucked up with both his soulmates the first time they met. Michael isn’t really known for his tact. But this time he meant to say what he did. He thinks it worked, too, because the kid’s excitement has slid right off his face. Calum looks at Michael, eyes wide. Like after everything they’ve talked about, he didn’t expect Michael to be a prick to the boy who might split them apart. Michael isn’t one to lie down and let the world take hits at him.

“I don’t want to come between you,” Luke says quietly, stepping back involuntarily. “I just—”

“You just nothing,” Michael snaps. “I’m not interested in another soulmate. And neither is Calum. Right, Cal?”

Calum looks at Michael like he’s been betrayed. Michael couldn’t give less of a shit. But the silence is enough for Luke, whose eyes are shining now. The moisture is like glass, glistening under the light. Michael didn’t expect him to be so sensitive, but he’s relieved, because he may have met his soulmate, but fuck fate. Maybe it’s possible to dodge it after all.

“Okay,” Luke mumbles, turning away and lifting the neck of his t-shirt to dab at his eyes. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He disappears quickly, winding through the students in the auditorium. Michael watches him go, breathing a sigh when he realizes the problem is over. Solved. For now, at least. He has Calum for as long as he can keep him. Calum, though, turns to Michael with an angry look on his face. Michael doesn’t like it on him.

“Mike, that was mean,” Calum breathes. “You were mean. He’s crying.”

Michael doesn’t like being mean, despite evidence to the contrary. He just—has to do what he has to do. Sometimes there are casualties along the way. “I told you. We don’t need another soulmate.”

“What if I want one?” Calum shoots back, frowning deeply. And that takes Michael aback, because even though Calum has pleaded for Michael to give the idea a chance, he’s never come outright and said he _wanted_ one. Being open to something and wanting it are two different things. A million insecure thoughts cross Michael’s mind. God, why couldn’t he have had it easy with just one soulmate? That’s the way it’s meant to be.

“It’s my choice too,” Michael says, struggling to keep his moral ground. “We’re supposed to make this decision together.”

“There’s no decision to make. Nobody else has to talk about whether they want to be with their soulmate or not. Everyone just _does._ ”

“Well, I’m different.”

“Well, I’m not. If the universe gave him to us, then I want to be with you both.” Calum is glaring him down, so much more determined than Michael has ever seen him. He’s used to steering the relationship, is so much more headstrong. But Calum’s voice is rising now. “I know he’s different and new and you don’t want things to change. But it’s supposed to be like this. What if you really like him?”

“I won’t,” Michael insists. He can tell Luke is a dweeb. “We don’t need another.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Well, too bad you’re stuck with me,” Michael says stiffly.

“So I guess we’re in a fight,” Calum says, lifting his chin. Michael isn’t sure if he’s angry or hurt or upset or what. He’s something, that’s for sure.

“I guess we are.” Michael steps back, knowing he has to be the first to break off so he doesn’t have to be the one who looks like an idiot standing in the middle of the auditorium. “Call me when you and Luke get back from your honeymoon.”

Calum flips him the middle finger. Michael shoves his hands in his pockets and stalks off, heading straight for the exit again. This time, though, he’s going home, and nobody is going to drag him back into that auditorium to save his life.

The fight doesn’t last. Michael bikes over to Calum’s house that night and goes up to his room and kisses him on his bed. Calum cries and says he doesn’t like fighting. He says they should talk about it later. Michael puts his lips back on Calum’s before any more treacherous words can spill.

 

* * *

 

**November 16, 2017**

**3:30 PM**

“It hurts,” Luke whispers, his body tired from crying for so long. He’s long ceased sobbing with any force. The tears stream off his face and onto the dusty ground, leaking out of his eyes like a broken faucet. Drip, drip, drip. He doesn’t know if Ashton is listening, but he can’t shut his mouth. It rolls over him in waves, pain like nothing he’s ever felt before. It feels like it’s been an eternity since the earthquake happened, and if he strains his ears he can sort of hear sirens in the distance, but he grows tired of listening. “Ash?”

“Yeah, angel?” Ashton says, his voice strained. Luke reaches his left arm out and touches the rocks separating them. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Luke bites down on a sound of pain. “How long do you think it’s been?”

Ashton sighs. The sound echoes in the space. Luke is still trying to comprehend how quiet everything is in the debris, like they’ve been isolated in a tiny bubble. Whoever was in the venue before is probably far away by now. He always thought emergencies like this were loud, frantic, frightening. He’s scared, but everything’s so silent, serene. Apart from their tenuous, sporadic conversation, there’s nothing to listen to.

“I don’t know,” Ashton says. “Maybe an hour. Maybe more, I don’t know.”

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” This is the question that bothers Luke most. He’s been lying here for ages and he doesn’t want to know if he’s going to die or if his legs can be fixed at a hospital or what they’ll do if it turns to night time and they’re still down here. He doesn’t even want to know what’ll happen if days pass and people stop looking. He just wants to know that the two people he loves more than anything in the world aside from Ash are looking for him. With his cheek pressed against the ground, he can almost feel Calum’s calloused hand on his upturned cheek. He can feel Michael’s hand on the small of his back, soothing and familiar.

All the ghost touches add up to nothing, though. He’s still surrounded by cold concrete and breathing in dust. He remembers realizing he got touch addicted when they’d finally all gotten together and he’d had to stay home sick for a week. The physiological withdrawal from his soulmates’ company and touch had him tossing and turning every night. He’d heard it talked about before, but nobody in his family seemed to have experienced it, so he didn’t know it was more than a passing longing for those he could only touch now and then. It might as well have been a poetic myth. It feels like he’s connected to them all by a string, and the string is starting to fray. It’s an ache, a waning of his life-glow. Touring is so much easier than dating in school was, since they’re all together virtually all the time. It’s worse under stress, so as long as he takes proper precautions to keep his stress low, he can tolerate distance.

He feels it now. With his legs crushed and pinned by something unbearably heavy and the looming threat of staying down here for an immeasurable length of time, he feels his chest tightening, feels the string tugging hard. He wants to be blanketed by the warmth of a familiar body, to be held close and tightly and to be comforted.

“I’m sure they’re looking,” Ashton is saying. He sounds subdued, oddly quiet, just when Luke needs him to be bigger than life and present. “They’ll find us.”

Luke reaches again to the rocks. He pulls some away, fingernails chipping and fingers turning chalky and rough. The soft scraping noise fills the silence. The closer he gets, the more the string loosens. “They always touch each other,” he says, sounding small. The unspoken _not me_ hangs in the air. “Do they love each other more than they love us?”

Ashton doesn’t respond for a long time. Luke focuses on clearing away the rubble. The muscle in his shoulder hurts, and he rests his palm against the ground, pausing. Ashton, in the lapse, says, “I don’t think so.”

It’s not a no.

“Fuck,” Luke says for no reason, other than that he’s in pain and doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say. The pain washes over him again and he whines low and helpless, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes mist over again. He would kill for an ibuprofen right now. Anything to take away the pain.

“They were together before us,” Ashton murmurs. “But we’re all soulmates for a reason, I guess.”

Luke doesn’t want to ask any more questions. He lies where he is, prostrate and still, his breaths from his open mouth blowing the dust up. He looks at the gaps and the lines of the concrete chunks so long they start looking like faces. It distracts him from the pain for a while.

Time passes at a snail’s pace. He doesn’t have a phone or a watch to help him track it. Maybe it passes like it normally does. Maybe it passes more slowly. Maybe it ricochets back and forth, slows down and speeds up and goes back to normal. If he can’t tell the time, how can he be sure the world is continuing like it always has?

He thinks of all the news stories he’s read about earthquakes. Emergency response, digging through collapsed buildings to find survivors. How long do they search before they stop? A day, two, three? Who will tell his parents that he didn’t make it out? Will Calum and Michael survive the loss of two soulmates?

A draught of cool air wisps through the space. The tugging in his chest starts back up. He tries to shift his body closer to where Ashton is and shuts his mouth on a scream when his leg muscles strain too. He can’t generate enough strength to pull himself out of the wreckage, but moving his legs even a centimeter is excruciating. Panting heavily and making low moans of pain as his body goes immobile, he lowers his upper body back to the ground and lies there, tears dripping onto the ground again. He doesn’t have the courage to try and move again.

“Luke?” Ashton says, concern seeping into his voice. “Hey, you okay?”

Luke doesn’t dare speak until the pain has passed. When it finally subsides probably minutes later, he whispers, “I’m okay. My legs, they—Ash, it hurts so _bad_.”

“Don’t move.” Ashton’s voice is soft, so blessedly comforting. If Luke was down here alone, he’d probably die from sheer loss of hope alone. “You might make it worse. I’ll find a way out, okay?”

“Ash,” Luke says in a thin voice, trembling all over as his breathing starts to slow again, “I need you.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” Ashton sounds almost desperate, and Luke imagines what it would be like if he was just a little closer. “Focus on my voice. You’re going to be all right.”

Luke starts to cry again. “I want you to hold me,” Luke whispers, torso shaking again with his anguish. He tries to keep himself as still as possible so he doesn’t move a single leg muscle. “It’s hurting in my chest.”

There’s a heartbreaking silence. Luke isn’t waiting for an answer. He can’t focus on anything but the tugging string and his injured legs. He wishes he was home in Sydney for a blinding moment, want so strong it overwhelms him. He wants his mother to stroke his hair and pull a blanket over his head. He wants the pain to stop.

Through his haze, his ears home in on a scratching, shuffling noise. It’s coming from the rocks between them. Luke reaches his arm out too and very carefully sweeps away rocks. He doesn’t know where Ashton is digging, but he knows that he’s on the other side, and he holds his breath, eyelashes heavy with tears that cling to the golden fringe. He can’t even tell if he’s getting any closer. He tries to remember where they were when the earthquake hit and how far from him Ashton probably is, but he’s too tired to guess.

“I’ll get to you,” Ashton whispers. “Don’t be scared. I’m gonna take care of you like I always do.”

 

* * *

 

**January 15, 2009**

Luke trudges home with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose. He still stings at the rejection, reliving the humiliating encounter in his head and eyes welling up anew each time he does. He’d left the house this morning so excited for his orientation, knowing it was the day he was going to meet his soulmates. He didn’t know it was possible for these types of meetings to go so disastrously.

His mother answers the door and starts to smile at the sight of her youngest son. As soon as she notices the state he’s in, her face crumples into worry. “Luke, hon,” she says, pulling him inside and smoothing back his hair. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Luke sniffles. “I’m gonna go to my room.”

“What about your soulmates?” she asks, looking as confused as Luke is. Behind her, Jack peeks out from the living room, curious about the scene that’s going down. Luke, for once, doesn’t give a shit if he sees.

“They didn’t want me,” he says through gritted teeth. He doesn’t want to talk about it with his mother and hear her pity or her disappointment. Two soulmates, and neither of them want him. “I’m gonna go to my room.”

“I’ll make you some tea and we can talk about it later,” his mum promises, pushing his hair off his forehead. “I’m sorry it didn’t go how you wanted it to.”

Luke stomps up the stairs, swiping angrily at his eyes. He slams the bedroom door shut once inside and dumps his school bag on the floor, flopping onto his bed on his stomach. He squeezes the pillow tight under his fingers and shuts his eyes so the tears can’t get out. “Stupid, stupid,” he whispers, sliding his arms underneath his stomach and trembling. Of course they wouldn’t want him. He’s never been the most attractive or the coolest. Sometimes he can barely get words out of his mouth.

He hopes he doesn’t have to see them at school. It would be a miracle if he could just avoid them forever and never have to face them again. He’ll tell everyone he hasn’t gotten his soulmate dreams yet. He just doesn’t think he can bear the shame again.

He’s completely absorbed in his tears until he hears his door crack open. Thinking it’s his mum, he grumbles, “Go away.”

“I, um,” the voice says and oh, no, it’s Jack. Luke stills and holds his breath, hoping Jack goes away anyway. Jack always made fun of him for crying when they were kids, unless Jack himself inflicted Luke’s suffering, in which case he was insufferably nice. It was always one or the other. Luke half expects Jack now to make fun of him. Instead, Jack settles on the bed next to him and puts an awkward hand on his shoulder.

“What do you want?” Luke says, frowning at the wall. He clearly said he wanted to be alone. Jack’s never been much of a comforter, so the gesture throws him off.

“It sucks about your soulmates,” Jack blurts out. “I’ll beat them up.”

Luke snorts. Of course that’s his first solution, always has been. If Jack used his brain and not his fists, they’d probably get along better. “Don’t think that’ll change their minds about me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Lose some weight, for starters,” Luke mumbles, eyes stinging again. Maybe that was it. “Then maybe stay home and never go to school again.”

Jack is quiet, moving his hand down to Luke’s hip. Luke doesn’t find it very comforting. The whole gesture is forced, unpleasant. They haven’t had enough practice being nice to each other. “You’ll grow out of the weight.”

“Sure.”

“What happened?”

“They’ve known each other for four years and they want nothing to do with me,” Luke says bitterly. “So the whole soulmates thing is a bust, I guess. I’m gonna be alone forever.”

Jack takes an audible breath. He pats Luke’s hip, pulling for him to turn onto his back. Luke obliges, staring petulantly at Jack through red-rimmed eyes. Jack smiles sadly and shrugs. “I haven’t even had my soulmate dreams. So you and I, I guess we’re the same. No soulmates. Aren’t we the lamest?”

That does it. Luke laughs out loud, momentarily shaken out of his stupor. Jack smiles back, clearly relieved. Luke is mostly tickled by Jack calling himself lame, which under any other circumstance would never happen. But it comforts him, too, to know Jack shares one of his worries. They may be so different, but in that respect, for now, they are the same.

“We’ll get there,” Jack assures him. “For now, we’ll just have to be alone.”

 

* * *

 

**November 16, 2017**

**3:51 PM**

“Please,” Michael is begging, catching the arm of every fireman who runs by. “Please, you have to help. My soulmates, they’re stuck in a building.”

Calum watches with a sick feeling in his stomach. Nobody will stop to help. They hardly even stop to listen. Michael is persistent and doesn’t give up easily. Calum just stands back and lets him plead. If they can’t find someone to dig Luke and Ashton out, they’ll have to do it themselves. Calum will knock out everyone who tries to stop him.

Michael lets one more firefighter go, and then he droops, defeated. Calum comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder, and tries to give him some comfort. Michael turns and wraps his arms around Calum, trembling and burying his face in Calum’s shoulder. Calum rests his chin on Michael’s shoulder and they stand there for minutes, leeching off of each other’s love and comfort.

“I’m worried about them,” Calum mumbles, and Michael pulls back, nodding and blinking back tears. “It’s been—a while.”

“Ashton would know what to do,” Michael whispers. “He always does. How are we supposed to responsible ones?”

Calum tries to picture what Ashton would say if he was here. He’d probably tell them to stop crying and to start doing something. What do they do? Venue security has probably dispersed in the interest of getting home and ensuring the safety of their own families. They could go back and try and get them out on their own. Calum knows, though, that there’s no way they can do it alone. The building went down in so much concrete and wood that he doesn’t even know if he’s capable of clearing it away.

Ashton would find a solution. If he was down there, or Michael, or both of them, Ashton would move mountains to get them out. Luke loves them dearly too, but Ashton is a fixer, always carries the responsibility for all of them. Ashton’s endowed with some sort of sixth sense for his soulmates’ hurt, and Calum can’t just sit here and let him down.

“We need to find someone to get them,” he says, like they weren’t trying that before. Michael just nods and wipes his eyes and bucks up, though. Calum tries to stop thinking about all the what-ifs and the terrifying possibility that he can’t stop going back to. “I can’t stand thinking about them down there.”

“Me neither.” Michael looks so heartbroken for a moment Calum wants to hold him all over again. But talking is better, he figures. It keeps them grounded. Calum settles for holding Michael’s hand. “Luke’s always been afraid of the dark, and—and what if he can’t touch Ashton?”

Calum stops himself from physically shuddering. All these years protecting Luke, the fragile spirit that’s never quite left his body, and now he can’t do anything. They’re stuck on two different sides, and all he can do is hope Ashton is enough for Luke. He doesn’t like to think of Luke scared, possibly injured, lonely.

“Ashton’s probably got him,” Calum says, which is hopeful thinking but also probably true. Unless Ashton is straight up unconscious, there’s no way he isn’t trying to take care of Luke the way he always does. Calum prays Ashton isn’t straight up unconscious.

“Well, we should keep trying.” Michael takes a deep breath. “I don’t think anyone is going to help for a while. All the fires, and—I heard someone say a gas line burst, and some of the highways are down. They’ll probably take care of that first, then start pulling people out.”

The hell will end. Calum is sure it will, because there’s no other option for him to consider. And if he walks away from this with two less soulmates, it will be on him for not doing everything he can. It’s his moral responsibility to take care of all his soulmates. One way or another, he’s going to have them back.

 

* * *

 

**February 2009**

Calum makes up his mind in the weeks after orientation. School starts in full swing, harder than it’s ever been, but Michael still comes over after school, since his parents aren’t home and he doesn’t like being alone. He decides to talk to Michael about the Luke Problem on a Friday afternoon when they have all the weekend and he won’t have to see Michael at school if Michael takes it badly. He practices the words in front of the mirror the night before, afraid that when the time comes, it won’t come out right. He debates writing notecards and decides that’s where he draws the line. He’s kind of lazy.

Michael is playing some dumb flip phone game on Calum’s bed. Calum glances over at him a few times, heart speeding up every time. He’s a wimp when it comes to confrontation. Eventually, he takes the plunge and clears his throat. Michael looks up and then back down at the screen, cursing as he loses.

“I’ve been thinking,” Calum says, tracing the divots in the wood of his desk where he’s forgotten to use the desk pad over the years. It’s full of pencil markings now. “About, you know, the Luke situation.”

Michael stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “I thought we agreed we didn’t want him.”

“You decided that,” Calum corrects him. He squirms in his desk chair, nervous. “I—I still want to give it a try.”

Calum braces himself for criticism or anger. Michael just keeps staring. It’s unsettling. Calum can’t pin down how he’s feeling, which throws him off. Usually he’s pretty good at reading Michael, but he’s getting nothing right now. “But what about me?” Michael finally says, jaw slack. “Does that mean you don’t want me?”

“No. No, obviously not. It just means—he deserves a chance. And I think you should try too.”

Michael looks almost offended, which Calum doesn’t think he has the right to be. “Why aren’t you happy with just me?” Michael says, sulking and looking pointedly away from Calum. His cheeks are flushed.

Calum rushes to reassure Michael. He expected as much. Michael’s more than a touch insecure, and has intimated more than once that if there are three of them, someone’s going to get left out. Calum’s pretty sure Michael thinks it’ll be him, but if anything, he’s worried about treating Luke equally after the bond he and Michael already have. He tells Michael, “I _am_ happy with you. I’m always happy with you. But there must be some reason he’s our soulmate. Can’t I be happy with you and also want to be happy with him?”

“No, because if you were really happy we wouldn’t need anyone else!”

Calum takes a deep breath, trying to stop himself from getting upset. “Mike, what if you really like him? He’s going to really like you. Once you apologize, anyway.”

“He’s not going to like me. He’s going to hate me, love you, and then you two are going to run off together and leave me,” Michael mutters.

Calum gets up and flops down on the bed next to Michael. He tries to catch his eyes. “Hey,” Calum says softly. “I am never, _ever_ going to leave you. I love you. You’re funny and loyal and you make me feel like I’m floating whenever we’re together. Just because I give Luke a chance, doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you. I’ll do everything in my power to make you guys feel included. None of us have to be left out.”

“What if he hates me?” Michael grumbles, crossing his arms. Calum can tell his irritation is a front for his worry.

“Then we ditch him,” Calum promises. “I won’t let anyone into our relationship who isn’t as in love with you as I am. But we gotta give him a go, okay?”

Calum doesn’t honestly expect Michael to acquiesce so soon, but Michael grudgingly nods. “I guess,” he says reluctantly.

(After Luke gets over his initial suspicion over Michael’s intent, he turns out to worship Michael. Michael definitely gets off on it. Michael, in turn, ends up protecting Luke as viciously as he tried to reject him. Calum is just happy their relationship is finally complete.)

 

* * *

 

**November 16, 2017**

**4:35 PM**

Ashton’s fingers hurt from scraping against rough concrete, and there are cuts over his fingers, but he doesn’t care for once. The little stings are nothing compared to his arm, which he’s pretty sure is broken. It can’t be anything like what Luke’s feeling, though, so he ignores it all. The hardest part of digging a tunnel is that every five minutes, the top debris crumbles down to fill whatever progress he’s made. But it’s not a totally hopeless endeavor.

“I’m almost there, Lukey,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes and resting for a moment. The shooting pain in his arm is almost too much to bear, but he knows he’ll have to free his arm if he’s going to reach Luke. “Talk to me. I need to hear your voice.”

“‘M here,” Luke says, voice choked as it has been for the past however long it’s been. “D’you think you can clear a hole so I can see you?”

Ashton’s chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s exhausted and in pain, but if Luke needs to see his face, he’ll clear the way. “Yeah, after I reach you.”

He knows Luke is working away at the other side. It gives them both something to focus on, something to look forward to. Just a touch of fingers is all Luke wants. Ashton strains to give him what he needs. He glances at his arm, pinned under a mound of rubble. Can he free it? It’ll hurt like hell, that’s for sure.

“Are you almost there?” Luke asks shakily.

Fuck it, Ashton decides. He grits his teeth and yanks as hard as he can, figuring it’s best to rip off the bandaid. He almost screams when pain rockets through his arm. He’s definitely broken something. But he’s jerked his arm free a few more inches.

“‘M almost there,” Ashton grunts, stretching and forcing his hand through the gap he’s been digging. He feels his fingers go through, but he can’t tell if there’s more rock separating them. “Can you see my hand?”

There’s a wet gasp and then Ashton feels something soft and warm brush his own, and he nearly sighs in relief when he realizes he’s reached Luke.

It’s not like he needs touch like Luke does, but the throbbing of his arm subsides immediately, like he’s just gotten a shot of morphine. He hears Luke breathe out slowly, squeezing his fingers loosely. “Better?” he asks.

“Better,” Luke mumbles. “A lot better.”

Ashton presses the pads of his fingers into Luke’s shaky ones. His own breath comes erratically. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since they got trapped down here, but it feels like forever, like they’ll be down here for a while. There’s no sign that help is coming, nothing to suggest they’re going to get out of here.

They might die down here.

Ashton doesn’t share the thought with Luke, who’s already breathless with pain and fear. He’ll only scare Luke, and if they want to live through this, he can’t be setting off false alarms. He wishes blindly that he could touch Calum and Michael once more before he goes, just to say goodbye. He doesn’t want to die yet.

“Is the pain still bad?” Ashton murmurs. He’s trying to distract himself from his own broken bones. He might never drum again. At this point, he’ll be grateful if he even gets out of here.

“Yeah,” Luke huffs, forcing a pained laugh. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

Ashton can hear the agony in his voice. He remembers when Luke got a concussion ice skating and wouldn’t stop touching the spot where his head had been bloodied, fingers coming away red and wet. Luke’s lip had trembled and he kept making these strange, incoherent noises. Ashton had held him upright and driven him to the hospital. He doesn’t know the extent of Luke’s injuries, but he makes a shushing noise and strokes the surface of Luke’s palm with his own bloody fingers.

“I’m here,” he soothes, rubbing his thumb over the heel of Luke’s hand. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”

“Right now an eight,” Luke breathes. Ashton hums. “It’s—your hand.”

“You’re doing great, Luke. Staying nice and calm. When we get out of here we’re going to take a nice long nap.” Ashton doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but he’s been listening to Luke groan in pain for long enough that the most important thing is to just keep talking and soothing him. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

“I want them to come,” Luke whispers. Ashton knows who he’s talking about. “What if they gave up?”

“They haven’t given up, buddy. They wouldn’t ever. Do you know how I know that?”

Luke sniffles, small and vulnerable. “How?”

“Because they love you, Luke. They love us. They would never give up on finding us. They love you so much and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do to keep you safe. They’re probably out there somewhere, trying to figure out how to rescue us. It’s only been a few hours, probably, so just stay calm.”

“You know how,” Luke starts, and then pauses. “You know how they say, when you—when your soulmate is about to—die, you get visions?”

Ashton stills, holding his breath. The question sends a shock of fear to his stomach. “Yeah,” he says, careful to keep his voice steady. “What about it?”

“You haven’t seen anything, have you?” Luke says softly, uncertain and nervous. Ashton feels his fear. He doesn’t know what it would feel like to have a vision of your soulmate dying, to know that they’re in trouble and your time has run short. He’s always pictured having the death-visions when they’re all in their nineties and have lived a full life together, but it dawns on him that maybe he’s going to lose someone today—maybe it’ll be Luke.

“I don’t see anything,” Ashton says firmly, but he knows in the back of his mind, if he saw Luke dying, he wouldn’t tell Luke. He’d keep his silence to the end.

“I don’t see anything either,” Luke tells him.

Ashton feels the tension in his stomach release, and he squeezes Luke’s fingers again. “So we’re not dying.”

This time there’s a smile in Luke’s voice when he responds. “Guess not.”

But the conversation doesn’t leave Ashton’s head. And there’s nothing else to think about, so it bounces around in there, and soon enough he doesn’t have to have death visions to be haunted by the image of Luke dying, just feet away and yet out of his reach.

 

* * *

 

**March 2011**

The peace doesn’t last. Calum is wrong; the three of them, apparently, _aren’t_ complete yet. Michael is the first one to have the dream. He comes to band practice one day with a sour expression. Calum isn’t too worried, considering Michael is perpetually in a mood. He’s fond of Michael’s petulance and histrionics. Luke tenses when Michael walks through the door. He’s more sensitive to Michael’s attitude.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Calum remarks. He’s playing Luke’s guitar on Luke’s desk chair. Michael sits against the headboard of Luke’s bed, right across from Luke himself. “Did someone spit in your cereal this morning?”

“I’m going to ignore you,” Michael says, shooting him a dirty look. “Both of you brace yourselves. You’re not going to like this.”

Luke’s brow furrows. He’s grown quite a bit in the last two years, his whole body thinning out almost too much and his courage growing (largely in part to having two very, unbearably protective soulmates), but his drowsy eyes are the same, just as blue as ever. Calum occasionally gets lost in them. Just occasionally.

“Spill the beans,” Calum says, nudging Michael with his toe. “What’s got your panties in a pretzel?”

Michael makes a face and rolls his eyes, trying to convey his irritation with Calum. In a moment, he settles more soberly and sighs. “I had another dream. A soulmate dream.”

Calum’s first thought is, dear God, he’s going to have to coach Michael through this one, too. He can’t do this again. His second thought is that he didn’t have the dream.

“But I didn’t have the dream,” Luke mumbles, looking like his heart has shattered. Calum reaches out and pats his knee reassuringly. “How can that be?”

“That’s why I said to brace yourself.”

“Look, there’s no reason to get upset,” Calum says, trying to be the voice of reason. “It just means we won’t meet him—her?”

“Him,” Michael confirms.

“We won’t meet him together,” Calum confirms. Internally, he’s sort of upset anyway, because he doesn’t know how this is supposed to work out. But Michael and Luke are already looking moody, so he tries to logic it out for them. “I mean, what if we just meet him at a different time?”

Michael actually seems satisfied with his suggestion. “I guess we can wait and see, right?”

“Right! So how do you meet him, then?”

Michael tells them nervously, like he thinks they’re going to be mad at him for having a soulmate that he didn’t want. He’s supposed to meet the boy at a house party. Calum can’t even imagine Michael _wanting_ to go to a house party, let alone being invited, but he keeps his mouth shut. Michael says the boy is a drummer for a band who’s going to be playing the party. He can’t offer up a good assessment of the boy’s skills, since the dreams are always brief and aren’t really meant to tell you everything. Some things you have to find out for yourself.

“You know,” Luke says after Michael finishes, “I think I get it. Like, your thing about me when I came.”

Michael’s face twists up in confusion and amusement. “What, you mean, like, when I made you cry and told you we weren’t going to let you in?”

“Yeah,” Luke snickers. “That. I mean, like, I don’t want to make him cry, but. I kind of get the jealousy thing. And worrying that he’s going to steal you from us.”

Michael grabs Luke under the arms and hauls him back, pulling Luke’s back up against his chest and kissing his overgrown blond hair fondly. “Aw, Lukey, I’m never going to leave you guys. No matter how absolutely dreamy he was. And I mean, like, dreamy. I mean, his fashion sense could use some work, but he was looking pretty good.”

“Like your fashion sense is so good,” Calum snorts. He has to admit that he’s a little conflicted. What does it mean for them if he’s only Michael’s soulmate? Do they just let Michael bounce back and forth? Do they make him decide? What kind of fucked up fate is this, anyway?

Things only get more distressing the month after, when Luke announces at lunch as he nervously straightens his uniform blazer lapels that he, too, dreamed about a boy. He’s supposed to meet him at the movie theater. Supposedly Luke’s set up to be made fun of for some reason or other (honestly Luke’s always being made fun of, so no surprise there), and the boy stands up for him, or something. Luke matches the description to Michael’s new soulmate, and they come to the consensus that it’s the same guy. Michael says it probably means the chances that he’s Calum’s soulmate are even better, but Calum isn’t really so sure.

“Doesn’t it make it less probable?” Calum muses, trying to veil his anxiety. “Like, what are the odds that three people are all destined for each other? That’s a lot of destiny. Isn’t it even less probable that four are all each other’s soulmates? That’s, like—I don’t know. A lot of pairs who have to get along. And then trios, too. Plus maintaining a whole group dynamic that works. How many pairs is that, anyway?”

“I don’t know, Luke’s the nerd,” Michael says disinterestedly. “Look, I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s not like we’ve even met him. Maybe we’ll hate him, too.”

Calum fixes Michael with a look. Michael should know, given how hard he tried to hate Luke, that it’s pretty much impossible to hate the person you’re fated to be with. After all, destiny doesn’t fuck around.

“That’s, like, six pairs,” Luke says, scrunching up his nose. “That’d be me and Cal, me and Mike, you two, me and the boy, Cal and the boy, and Mike and the boy—that’s six, right?”

Michael snickers and jostles Luke. “Loser.”

“Plus—I don’t know, like, four trios?”

“I didn’t even know someone could have so many soulmates,” Calum groans, putting aside his worries for a moment. “What if we just keep gaining new soulmates? By the time we’re old, we’ll be, like, a family of fifty. I won’t even know all my soulmates’ names.”

Michael pets his shoulder and tells him not to worry. Calum is more than worried, honestly. He at least had Luke still if Michael left them for Mystery Boy, he thought, but what if he ends up the only one left?

The problem resolves itself. He gets his dream only a few weeks later. He’s supposed to meet Mystery Boy at band practice. Michael laughs at him when he finds out. Luke kisses Calum on the cheek and tells him not to worry.

 

* * *

 

**5:08 PM**

“It’s getting dark,” Michael mumbles. He looks up at the sky with a pained expression, scanning the hazy skyline. He can see flares of red against the horizon, fires that have been burning all day. The air feels thick and suffocating in some areas. He watched a house go up in flames across the street, watched as the firefighters rushed to put it out. Michael feels detached from the tragedy in the streets. It’s not his home. But he’s mindful of the fact that there’s half of them missing still. “It’s going to be harder to find them in the dark.”

Michael thinks about Luke, who still brings a night light for their hotel rooms and can’t watch scary movies without hiding under the blankets. He thinks about both of them lying in the ruins of the venue building and staring up as the sky goes black, wondering if they’ll be there at night, trying to find the stars.

Calum looks around helplessly, searching for something. His nearly black eyes reflect the hot red-orange of the fire still burning down the street. “We should find someone,” he says. In the hours since the earthquake, they’ve been trekking around the city, begging every emergency responder they come across to help them. Michael’s feet ache and he wants to lie down on the pavement to ease the ache in his back—even the worst of their tour days aren’t this bad, emotionally or physically—but he won’t let himself stop. He’ll walk to the ends of the Earth to drag those boys out of the rubble. Michael’s not going to let the sun come back up again without them in his arms.

“We need to start walking back to the venue. Do you remember which way we came?”

Calum points wordlessly down the street. Michael has to trust his direction, since he’s losing track and Calum was always better at navigating. They start back down the street and begin the journey to the venue. Michael forces himself to speed-walk through the exhaustion.

They walk in virtual silence. Michael thinks back to this morning and how peaceful everything had seemed. He didn’t know that going on a walk outside the venue would save his life.

If he hadn’t asked for it to be just them, Luke and Ashton would be safe now, too. The thought hits him like a sandbag. He made the decision, held the scales and tipped them the way he wanted. He never doubted there would be another day for the four of them to spend time together. All day Luke had whined that he was lonely and wanted their attention. It must have been some kind of sign that Michael ignored. No matter how insecure he’s always been about his relationships, his fear of losing Calum to the other boys always wins over his own love for the other two. It’s deep-seated, irrational, a remnant of his adolescence. They’re all too good to be his.

He needs to let go of that. Lesson learned, universe.

“You okay?” Calum asks, looking over at him. They’ve been walking for half an hour at least, and Michael thinks they must be close to the venue. He can’t see very well; the sun has almost completely disappeared beneath the horizon.

Michael nods, his throat tight. He wants them back so badly. It comes and goes, and Michael is blown about like a leaf in the wind. He can’t let go of the fact that this was his fault. If one of them dies, he’ll never be able to forgive himself. It should be unimaginable, but he can imagine it all right.

“I wish we’d taken them with us this morning,” Michael blurts out, his eyes filling with tears. He hasn’t cried since it happened, a damn miracle, but he was busy trying to be stoic and take care of Calum. He’s tired and losing hope and caught up in the chaos of all the tragedy around them. “It’s my fault.”

Calum stops walking and grabs Michael’s arm, yanking him to his chest. Calum wastes no time in holding Michael, rubbing his back. Michael swallows hard, knowing if he melts down now he might never stop crying. He can cry when they’re safe. “It’s not your fault,” Calum breathes. “You didn’t know.”

“I just get so jealous,” Michael sniffs. “I always have. But I love them. I should have let Luke spend more time with us.” He adds, laughing wetly, “That little loser.”

“We took it for granted.” Calum pulls back and kisses Michael square on the lips. Michael doesn’t feel right about enjoying affection when his soulmates are buried somewhere in need of his help, but he needs it so badly. Calum wipes the tears on Michael’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Come on, now. Let’s find someone to help. We know they’re still alive.”

They know that almost for sure, so Michael takes a deep breath and swallows past the lump in his throat, trying to toughen up again. It’s a test in willpower, always has been. They need to keep moving.

 

* * *

 

**5:45 PM**

When the ground starts shaking again, Ashton hears Luke cry out in fear. His own panic steals his voice, and he clenches his jaw hard, fighting the surge of terror in his throat. Oh, god, no, not again.

The rubble shifts, and Ashton shuts his eyes as dust rains down on him. Pieces of plaster and concrete hit his torso and face, gouging out little chunks of skin and burying him even further. He can hear Luke making scared noises, wordless and in tears, gripping Ashton’s hand so tightly it might break.

Something hits Ashton’s left thigh _hard_ and he screams, convulsing at the sudden searing pain. He wants to let go of Luke’s hand to cover his face, but Luke grips too tightly. Medium chunks of building material fall onto the exposed parts of his body, but he can’t distinguish the tiny shocks of pain from the major injury to his leg. He can’t breathe, doesn’t know what happened. His fingers slacken in Luke’s, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out loud.

When the world settles once more, Luke coughs out another sob and chokes out, “Ash?”

“Yeah,” Ashton breathes, his body tensing and untensing as the pain hits him. “Luke.”

“Are you okay?” Luke asks, sweaty palm slipping against Ashton’s. Ashton barely registers the feeling. He’s on fire, sweating.

Ashton doesn’t respond to Luke immediately, because he doesn’t know how. Numb, whimpering, he tugs his hand free from Luke’s and reaches down to touch his thigh. He exhales so forcefully it sounds like he was punched. He can feel the edges of his gashed skin rubbing raw against each other in a sickening way, can feel that his jeans are completely soaked, and then he’s just gasping, slammed with horror. Something must have sliced his leg right open. He presses his fingers against the wound, head fuzzy.

“Ash?” Luke asks again, sounding more frightened this time. “Talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“I,” Ashton starts, his mouth full of saliva he forgets to swallow. He can feel it frothing at the edges of his mouth and swallows, throat spasming. He’s breathing so hard he’s dizzy. “Luke.”

“Ashton, what happened?” Luke demands, voice pitching unnaturally. Ashton gasps and his fingers, slick with viscous blood, slip against each other.

“Bleeding,” he breathes, “a lot.”

“Oh—oh _fuck_ ,” Luke says. “You gotta—stay with me, yeah? _Fuck_ , ah.”

“Are you in pain?” Ashton pants, momentarily distracted. Luke. Luke, Luke. His fingers twitch over his thigh, unsure of whether to press down or not. He decides on the former, and screams again. He lessens the pressure, and huffs out little noises of agony. He has to stop the bleeding, he knows that.

“No, it’s not me, it’s—” Luke cuts himself off and says, “Ash, stay with me, okay? Breathe. I’m gonna try to—”

“It hurts,” Ashton gasps, the world spinning around him. “Luke?”

“I’m here. I’m here, Ash, breathe. I’m right here for you, see?”

“Okay.” Ashton lies back, fingers slipping over his jeans. The fabric is torn apart, and he can feel the jagged edges of his skin. “Luke?”

“What is it?”

“Do you see anything?” Ashton says, eyes stinging with salty tears. He wants to know if Luke sees him, lying a few feet away. He wants to know if Luke sees the wound in his leg, sees him jerking around on the ground in the throes of death. Does Luke see him in the future, taking his last breath? Or does he see him as he is now, fast tracking to the end? “What do you see?”

Luke waits too long to answer. “Nothing,” he says finally. “I see nothing.”

And Ashton knows. Luke is just like him. He’s seen something, but he won’t say it. It doesn’t matter. Ashton knows anyway.

 

* * *

 

**5:48 PM**

It hits Calum like the worst migraine of his life. He’s on his knees in seconds, kneecaps slamming into the pavement. His sight of the street disappears entirely, replaced by the image of Ashton. He sees him so clearly, his face caked in dirt, blood, and dust. He’s moving in a strange way, chest jerking up every now and then. Calum can see his hand, hovering over his left thigh, glistening with something dark. Just like that, he snaps back to the street, inhaling like he’s been underwater for five minutes. When his vision clears again, his eyes focus on Michael, who’s bent over at the waist and looks similarly rattled.

“I saw it,” Michael pants, rigid and eyes blown wide. “Cal, we have to go _now._ ”

Calum doesn’t need telling twice. They’ll do it themselves, then. When you’re up against the wall, you start shooting.

 

* * *

 

**5:55 PM**

Luke’s whole body tenses as he drags himself forward, trying to wriggle out from under the concrete that’s pinned his legs down. He muffles his yells in the meat of his arm, pain shooting up his back. He can hardly hear Ashton’s weak gasps. He needs to get off his stomach and get to Ashton and find a way to slow the bleeding down as long as possible. If he had the vision, so did Calum and Michael.

The last ember of hope that they’re coming to help burns hot enough to numb the pain.

He’s got his upper legs dragged free, so he forces himself to stomach the pain and keep moving. He can’t pull them out of here if he can’t use his legs, but if he gets to Ashton, he can use his shirt to tie off the wound. He doesn’t know anything about how to keep people from dying, but he’s seen enough movies to think it’s a good idea. His only idea.

“Luke,” Ashton says in between too-fast, too-shallow breaths. “I’m cold.”

“You just hang on, I’m almost there,” Luke grunts, eyes burning with dust and tears. “Keep your hand on your leg for me, okay?”

“I can’t, it hurts.”

“Do it anyway,” Luke grits out. “You have to. Do you trust me?”

“I want to go home,” Ashton breathes, sounding so unlike himself it scares Luke more than anything. His voice is so faint Luke feels like Ashton might just fade away. “Will you take me home?”

“If you keep your hand on your leg, I’ll get you home,” Luke promises blindly. He yanks the rest of his legs free with one monumental movement. He’s probably ruined his legs beyond repair, made the injury worse than it should have been, but even if he never walks again, it’ll be worth it for Ashton’s sake. “Are you keeping your hand on your leg?”

“Yeah.”

Luke only allows himself a moment to rest before he starts to dig, pushing through the rubble. It’s easier now that he’s not held down, but moving the chunks just causes more to rain down on him. He tries to sweep it behind him into the space where he was. Luckily for him, Ashton isn’t that far away.

It takes him a few horrible, frantic minutes to finally break through to the other side, his legs dragging uselessly behind him. Ashton looks up at him with glazed eyes. He’s sweating like he does after a concert, hair soaked at the roots and skin beading up. Before today, Luke would have been alarmed at the cuts on his face, but the adrenaline is pushing him to ignore it. There are much, much worse things.

Luke crawls down to Ashton’s legs and squirms briefly, trying to wriggle out of his t-shirt. Ashton breathes shakily above him, whimpering now and then. Luke slides his hand under Ashton’s leg and pulls it up, his arm muscles spasming from exhaustion. Ashton cries out, the movement too much. Luke forces himself to ignore his instinct to put his leg down immediately and pushes the t-shirt under his thigh, letting his leg down after. He pulls the two ends up on either side and pauses, momentarily doubting himself. How tightly do you tie a tourniquet? What if he kills Ashton by tying it too tightly, or not tightly enough?

“Luke,” Ashton whispers. “I’m cold. Turn the AC off.”

Luke freezes, looking at Ashton’s face and then panning back down to his leg. The blood is still oozing out at an alarming rate. He starts to tie the t-shirt around Ashton’s thigh, pulling until he sees the t-shirt constrict the flesh. His stomach flips nastily. He looks away, swallowing the taste of bile.

“There’s no AC,” he whispers, scooting up so he can lie next to Ashton. He drapes himself over Ashton, trying to keep him warm. “You’re down here with me.”

“Am I going to die?” Ashton asks, glassy eyes unfocused. Luke kisses Ashton’s damp forehead, trying to soothe him. He’s pallid and clammy. It looks like the life is leaving him by the minute.

“No,” Luke says softly. “Don’t speak.” He looks over at Ashton’s thigh, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but it looks like the bleeding has slowed. But he knows it’s not enough. If Calum and Michael don’t come soon, it won’t matter. Shaking, he reaches back down and puts his hands down on either side of the wound. Ashton convulses for a moment, jerking up and whimpering helplessly. Luke forces himself to harden his heart to the noise. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I have to.”

Luke keeps his hands in place and presses down, hoping to cut off whatever blood is still coming out past the tourniquet. He wants to throw up at the feeling of warm, sticky blood on his fingers. He lays his head down on his arms and continues pressing, hoping it’s enough.

 _Come soon_ , he yells in his head at Calum and Michael. They can’t hear him, but maybe they’ll feel it. They’re connected, after all. _He needs you now._

After all these years of Ashton taking care of them, they can’t let him down.

 

* * *

 

**6:08 PM**

Michael is done messing around. The more time they waste, the more he feels, literally feels, Ashton’s strength waning. The second he catches sight of the collapsed venue, he takes off at a sprint and forgets about trying to find someone to help them. He needs to get to Ashton. He tries to remember where the dressing room was, sort of makes out in the dark the fallen signs. He doesn’t even know where to start.

So he starts shouting. He cups his hands around his mouth and screams, “Luke! Ashton!” over and over again, straining his ears for a response. His heart pounds in his chest like a hammer on an anvil. They have to be in there somewhere. He’d know if they were dead. He’d know, so they have to be in there somewhere. “Luke? Ashton?”

Calum yells a short distance away, equally frantic. Their voices overlap, but Michael doesn’t hear any responses. His whole chest feels taut, like it might cave in. They’re supposed to be here. Why couldn’t he have a vision that showed him where to look?

“Michael!” Calum shrieks out of nowhere, lurching forward and starting to claw at the rubble. “Mike, Luke—he’s here. They’re here. Help me, help me.”

Calum works at a fever pace, his eyes focused with frantic intensity on the concrete and plaster mess. Michael has never run faster in his life. “Luke?” he calls, desperate to hear his voice for the first time in hours.

He hears Luke’s voice, faint and far below, but it’s enough. Michael almost laughs out loud. The nightmare might actually end. He’s not too late. He’s not going to lose a soulmate today.

Calum is already crying half in relief as they work. “We’re going to get you out,” he shouts, babbling out promises. Michael is afraid to talk, afraid that Luke might stop responding. He focuses on working instead. Some of the pieces are easy to move, and some of them require joint effort. Michael knows his arms will burn like they’ve been set on fire tomorrow. He’d let someone douse them in gasoline and light the match if it meant he could keep Ashton.

Progress is infuriatingly slow. Every minute or so, Michael tosses his head back and screams, “Someone help!” It doesn’t do much good initially, but in a few minutes, he feels a new presence join them, and it’s someone he doesn’t even know, just a man who was walking past and heard him yelling. Michael looks up at him in awe, taking in the kind, worn lines of his face.

“What do you need, son?” the man asks, helping Michael remove a heavy block of concrete. Michael pants and rests with his hands on knees for a moment. They’re barely making a dent.

“My soulmates,” he says, eyes filling with tears. “I need to get them out. One of them is hurt.”

“You stay here a second, okay?” the man says, patting Michael’s shoulder. “I’m going to find some more people to help. You just keep working.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, grasping his hands tightly and nodding. Michael doesn’t bother watching the back of his salt-and-pepper hair recede. He has to trust he’ll come back like he said he would. He keeps tearing through the remains of the building, focusing on Luke’s voice as Calum checks in intermittently.

He’s so close, so close.

 

* * *

 

**6:12 PM**

Luke bursts into tears as soon as he hears Calum’s voice and yells back, “We’re here.”

He bends over Ashton’s body, tears dripping onto Ashton’s torn shirt, and weeps, hands covered in fresh and dried blood and legs pinned uselessly under him. The relief alone is enough to force hard, powerful sobs out of him. He’s so tired he can’t stop shaking, and he’s still in enough pain that his vision blurs every now and then. Ashton is chalk-white and hasn’t said anything in a few minutes. But the nightmare is almost over.

“We’re almost out,” Luke sniffles, taking one of his hands to touch Ashton’s cheek. The blood on his finger smears across Ashton’s pale skin. He doesn’t care. “Ashton?”

Ashton opens his eyes and barely smiles. He knows Luke is there, but Luke doesn’t know what else he knows anymore. He hums and his voice gives out on him. Luke cries some more, calling back to Calum and Michael whenever he hears their voices. They’re so close to him, getting closer by the minute. He can hear other voices, too. The aching in his chest is easing just enough to make it bearable.

He can hear them clearly after some time, like they’re just outside the door of his hotel room. He can hear a siren, too. Dim light breaks the pitch black of the fallen building and he can see his own legs, the way they’re bent the wrong way and are too flat and bumpy to be okay. Luke has long stopped being shocked at the sight. He wonders if anything will ever bother him again.

“Please,” Luke calls, face turned toward the location of all the noise. “Mike. Cal. Please.”

“We’re almost there,” Michael yells. Luke hunches over Ashton’s body again, breathing so hard it makes him dizzy. Ashton’s heartbeat stutters under his fingers whenever he tries to check, weak and fading.

Luke doesn’t know how much time passes before the final chunks of concrete are removed, but when it is, he doesn’t see the people who helped and the fires and the moon and the lights burning all over the city. All he sees are the two people he thought he’d never see again.

It’s like breathing for the first time.

 

* * *

 

**6:33 PM**

When Calum sees Ashton, his heart drops down to his shoes. There’s not a spot of color in his face save for the blood, and his eyes are drooped half-shut. Calum thinks he’s dead at first, because he isn’t moving and Luke is staring up at them with the wide, wild-eyed look of a trauma survivor. Luke’s face is covered in dirt and blood and chalky white dust except for clean tear-tracks that wiped away the grime in their path. Luke is hunched shirtless over Ashton in a strange way, both hands on his leg, and he looks stunned and disoriented.

Michael pushes Calum aside with a distressed cry and grabs Luke under the arms, dragging him out of the remaining rubble and onto the grass. Luke lies on his back, staring up at the sky blankly. His mouth hangs open, and Calum takes one look at his legs and has to turn away. It looks wrong.

Michael and another civilian pick Ashton up between them, Michael at his head and the man at Ashton’s legs. Ashton’s eyelashes, matted with dirt, flutter to his cheekbones. Calum sees the t-shirt wrapped around Ashton’s upper thigh and recognizes it as Luke’s vintage band tee. Michael drops to his knees over Ashton, pushing back his hair and kissing every inch of skin he can find. Calum stays by Luke’s side, but he watches Michael and Ashton closely.

“He’s okay,” Luke is repeating. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”

“He’s okay,” Calum echoes back to Luke, reaching down to hold his hand. Luke barely squeezes back. “We’re all okay.”

There’s a team of paramedics coming their way with a stretcher. Calum doesn’t know how anyone managed to catch their attention, but he’s so thankful. Ashton is lifted onto the white cot and carried away.

“Go,” Calum tells Michael with difficulty, nodding in Ashton’s direction. “Stay with him.”

“You’ll be okay?” Michael mumbles.

“Yeah,” Calum says, swallowing hard. “I’ve got him.”

He lifts Luke’s head into his lap and uses the hem of his shirt to wipe Luke’s face, trying to clean him up. Luke blinks dazedly at him. “Hey, you,” Luke says, with a smile.

“Hey, you,” Calum says, blinking back tears. He can’t stop touching Luke’s face. Luke seems to relax when Calum touches him. He needs it. Calum wants to hold him all night. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Luke mumbles, tears springing up at the corners of his eyes. “Does.”

Calum holds his hand until a second ambulance comes for him. It takes a while—every emergency responder in the city has been dispatched to grapple with the casualties—but as the good samaritans disperse to help other people and Calum is left alone on the grass with Luke’s head in his lap, Luke remains awake and surprisingly alert. So Calum keeps their fingers intertwined, determined to touch Luke for as long as he can. Luke doesn’t say it, but Calum knows. All is forgiven.

 

* * *

 

**10:15 PM**

Luke comes to in a blue-walled room, his head fuzzy and his mouth as dry as cotton. It takes him a long time to make sense of his surroundings, the machine beeping at his side and the wires he’s hooked up to. He looks to his side and sees Michael, holding Luke’s IV-injected hand. Luke squeezes Michael’s hand, and Michael’s head jerks up in surprise.

“Luke, baby,” Michael mumbles, standing and leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Thank god you’re okay.”

It takes Luke too long to remember the hellish nightmare of the day and the pain in his legs. He looks down at the end of the bed and realizes both his legs are casted and propped on pillows. He only feels a dull ache. Still disoriented, he asks, “Am I gon’ be able t’ walk?”

Michael soothes him, stroking his hair and rubbing his cheekbone with one short, stocky thumb. The touch relaxes Luke and sends happy signals to his head. “Not until you get these casts off.”

“Hey, Lukey,” Calum’s voice says. Luke turns his head to see Calum across the room, out of reach. He hadn’t turned his head far enough to see. Luke smiles drowsily at the sight of Calum, his heart beating a little faster in joy. “Are you in any pain?”

“No.” Luke tugs at Michael’s hand, trying to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it sloppily, his lips two seconds behind his brain. He feels like he’s moving through quicksand. Through his foggy haze, he remembers Ashton, the blood on his hands and the chill of Ashton’s skin. He vaguely remembers the death visions, too. Struck by momentary panic, he grasps Michael’s shirt collar and asks, “Ashton? Is he—”

“He’s right over here,” Michael says, pointing to the other side of the room. The curtain that’s meant to separate the beds is drawn halfway across, so Calum gets up and pulls the curtain back all the way. Luke sits up slightly and leans forward, anxious to see Ashton and confirm he’s safe and sound. Ashton’s there on the other bed, eyes shut with an oxygen mask taped to his face and a bag of blood hanging from his IV pole. The exposed part of his face is covered with various plasters and bandages. Luke puts his hand to his own face and finds it much the same.

“Is he okay?” Luke asks, hushed. It’s jarring to see the one he looks up to most as a protector so small and helpless. But Luke is convinced that Ashton’s spirit is stronger than his body, so as long as he lives, he will be the sun for Luke’s shadowed heart.

Calum sits down in the chair next to Ashton’s bed and puts a hand on Ashton’s blanketed leg. He looks tired—Michael does too, and Ashton looks the most faded of all—and he runs his fingers over the blankets, a mixture of fond and depressed. He smiles sadly, with fragility, and says, “He lost a lot of blood. He’s probably going to be out for a while.”

Michael smooths Luke’s hair back and amends, “He’ll be okay. They’re watching his internal organs to make sure everything’s working okay. He’s going to be pretty weak, but with some more transfusions and some time he’ll probably be okay. They said you’re both going to need physical therapy, though. Some of his tendons were sliced, and your legs are pretty beat up, too.”

Luke leans back with a soft sigh, relieved and worried at the same time. He’s not alert enough to assess the kind of damage control they all have ahead of them. He expects everything will be put on pause for a while as he and Ashton recover physically and mentally. Right now, he wants to crawl into Ashton’s bed and be with him. He can’t do that, so he settles for holding Michael’s hand. Michael fusses over him, making sure he’s adequately warm and isn’t in any pain. Luke’s told he’s on some pretty strong pain meds, which explains why his legs don’t hurt much. Most importantly, Calum points out that Ashton being asleep is for the best. None of them want to see him in pain. He’ll wake up eventually.

“I was so afraid,” Michael says quietly, confidentially. “We didn’t know what to do.”

“You saved us,” Luke says, smiling sleepily at Michael. “I love you guys so, so much.”

Michael doesn’t perk up. He keeps staring at his hands and pursing his lips. Luke doesn’t know what to make of it. “I’m sorry,” Michael says finally. His words are just a touch choked. “I told Calum I just wanted the two of us to go on that walk. If I hadn’t been so selfish, you guys wouldn’t have been trapped down there.”

Luke’s brow furrows at Michael’s confession. Calum looks up from Ashton’s side, looking equally guilty. Calum adds, “And we didn’t pay attention to you this morning. It could have been our last chance to spend time with you.”

Luke wishes Ashton was awake, just briefly, because he’s better at talking and definitely better at smoothing out hurt feelings. Luke really just wishes there was enough room in his bed to fit Michael and Calum on either side of him.

“I know,” Luke says, nodding. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t want you to ever think we don’t love you. I know we had a rocky start all those years ago, but I don’t love you any less than I love Calum or Ashton. I wish I’d showed it better. Maybe this wouldn't have happened.”

Luke has to think for a while to come up with something to say, partially because the meds have him pretty woozy and partially because he just doesn’t know how to assure Michael and Calum that he knows, has always known. He hates being left out, but he’s never doubted that they love him to pieces. After tonight, he’ll never doubt it again.

“I know you love me,” he says, squeezing Michael’s hand again. “It’s okay. I know.”

Michael smiles at him with tired eyes, and Calum smiles too. Luke feels the tension in the room release just enough.

Outside, responders still fight to pull people from the jaws of death and put out the fires that blaze the night. Inside, Michael and Calum hold each other’s hands, Michael grips Luke’s hand, and Calum puts a hand on Ashton’s leg. Luke feels the current run through him, hot and electric and glowing, the strength of all of his soulmates and his combined to light him up.

Everything, by all standards, should be completely ruined. Luke is going to be immobile for months, as will Ashton, which means the tour is off, of course. They might be trapped in Oregon for a few days until the airports are operating again, and the phone lines are down interminably, which means they’ll have to find some alternate way of communicating their safety to their families. They all have a lot of pain ahead to deal with.

But Luke has three soulmates who will be by his side through all of it. For the first time today, he’s not scared. He knows that, come what may, his world will set itself right again, and if it doesn’t, he’ll fall into their arms.

It’ll be okay.

 

* * *

 

**December 2012**

Ashton feels like he’s floating, living in an endless dream. Since last year, he’s found not only the soulmate he was beginning to think he’d never find, but three. _Three_. Ashton thinks he’s the luckiest person on the planet. They’re all unique and funny and latch onto him like they’ve known him for years. There’s destiny, for you.

The best part is that he’s now the drummer for their teeny-tiny little band, which is about to become a little less teeny-tiny. Tomorrow morning, they’re flying to London to songwrite and live together for a few months. Ashton’s life has gone from flat and grey to bursting with vibrant color. It’s like he was asleep all his life and just suddenly woke up. The world is much more beautiful with his eyes open.

Everything is completely perfect. He’s got a blossoming career doing the one thing he loves most in the world next to the three people he loves most in the world. The future has never looked brighter. As the world moves closer and closer to welcoming in 2013, Ashton thinks about how thankful he is that he didn’t give up on life those times he came close. He was always waiting for that one thing that made holding on worth it, and this is more than he dared to dream of.

Tonight, they’re all sleeping over at Michael’s house. They’re in the granny flat in the backyard, drinking wine coolers and giggling at the stupidest things. It’s late in the night, and they’re trying not to be too loud in case the noise carries across the yard and into the house, but to be honest, they’re far too excited to sleep or even attempt to be calm. Except for Calum, none of them have ever been out of the country. But Ashton isn’t nervous. He’s itching to go. He’s ready to step into a new world and explore love, life, and himself.

“Guys,” Luke tries to say, uselessly speaking over the giggles and shrieks coming from Michael and Calum, who are wrestling over space in the bed they’ve all somehow managed to squeeze onto (although, really, Ashton doesn’t trust the creaking boards to hold all of their weight). “Guys! Can you shut up?”

“Michael’s tickling me,” Calum laughs, shoving Michael into Ashton, who smacks his head against the wall and groans. “Oops. Sorry, Ash. I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey!” Luke yells, reaching over and smacking Michael on the arm. His face is flushed from laughing his head off minutes before. They’re all a little tipsy and deliriously sleepy, but everyone knows the first person to fall asleep gets a mustache drawn on, so it’s not going to be Ashton. “Shush.”

Calum and Michael manage to quiet themselves long enough for Luke to talk. Ashton listens, wrapping an arm around Michael’s waist and kissing his shoulder while he’s distracted. Luke clears his throat and raises an empty wine cooler bottle. “I just wanted to say. I never thought I’d be leaving Australia tomorrow with my three best friends and my soulmates. I just have to say...” Luke’s eyes are misting up, which Ashton mostly blames on the alcohol but kind of blames a little on the genuine emotion Luke is trying to express. Ashton feels it, too, the kind of happy that’s just too much. “...I love you guys. So much. More than anything in the world. As long as we’re together I’m going to be the happiest person in the world.”

They all smother him in kisses after that, smushing him between Michael and Ashton so they can sandwich him on all sides and give him as much love as possible. Luke’s cheeks are pink with joy and his eyes are bright, so bright.

On this hot summer night, Ashton lies awake with an armful of soulmates and too much laughter and love to fit in his chest. When the day breaks tomorrow, they’ll be off to live a fast-paced, whirlwind life with just each other to lean on. It’s going to be difficult and frightening and new.

But they’ll be together. They’ll always be together.

They watch the sun come up, lighting the sky with brilliant coral and gold, and then they finally doze off with the sunset peeking through the window and their limbs hopelessly entangled.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [ here ](clingyluke.tumblr.com). please leave kudos a comment if you have anything at all to say or any questions! thanks for reading!  
> xx


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